


What Good Is Love

by mrgoldsdearie



Category: Gotham (TV), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, If you're uncomfortable with either straight or gay sex please do not read this fic, M/M, Seman Eating, This story depicts both and will be recurring as the plot moves along, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, anal penetration, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9121831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrgoldsdearie/pseuds/mrgoldsdearie
Summary: Rumbelle/Nygmobblepot crossover AU - After years of searching for his long lost son, Elijah Rumford Gold (OUAT’s Mr. Gold) unites with Oswald Cobblepot (Gotham's Penguin). Beginning a chain of events that will change their lives and the people they’re in love with. Will they all be able to come together as a family unit, though they have emerged from two different worlds?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a non-magical AU. I really didn't want to deal with some of the craziness that comes with the magic elements of OUAT. I wanted this story to be more grounded to our reality much like the world of Gotham does from time to time, but also still playing with fantasy. This work of fanfiction will draw elements from the canons of both shows as you will see in this first chapter. I had so much fun writing this and the words just flowed from me faster than I expected them too. The parallels between Rumbelle and Nygmobblepot are so prominent that it makes it almost flawless for me to merge their stories together. I love both couples (one more than the other at the moment, but that doesn't mean I can't write for them) and I'm so happy that I was able to write a story where they are both together. I really hope those who read this enjoys. I want to get the next part out as soon as possible if I'm not hit with fluffy nygmobblepot hand-canons urging to be written. Thanks to everyone who supported me in writing this. I’ve never written anything where characters from different shows collided. So this is entirely new to me. I’d love to hear what you think. There are all kinds of angst, smut, murder and drama all ahead. Such good fun!! Happy reading!

## Part One: My Son

 

> _Gotham, the city that changes people._

He presses his warm lips against his lover’s freckled cheek, draping his arms around the shorter man’s neck. “Oh, Oswald,” Edward Nygma moans blissfully, rolling his hips to his boyfriend’s gentle lunges, wrapping his legs around his waist.

“I -- I love it when you -- say that,” Oswald Cobblepot, underworld kingpin and mayor of Gotham, breaths between words. He rests his brow upon Edward’s, gazing into his rich chocolate eyes, pacing himself to drive inside him a little faster. “Uh... Uh...”, he grunts with each thrust.

Edward slides his hands down Oswald's back, feeling every muscle flexing, and rests them on his ass, squeezing his plump cheeks.

“Ah!”, he cries, clenching his butt to his lover’s touch. “I love that too.”

“I know you do, Mr. Penguin,” Edward groans through his teeth. “Now, fuck me harder.”

Oswald kisses Edward, slipping his tongue between his lips, taking in his warm breath. Oh, how his taste sends volts down his spine. He then sits up on his knees and grapples onto his boyfriend's hips, penetrating his opening with everything he has, repeatedly slamming his cock against Edward's prostate, relishing the different moans he’s caused his riddler to sing.

“Oh.... Fuck.... Ah.... Os!” Edward takes hold of his rigid manhood, stopping it from flopping against his stomach with each powerful buck Oswald takes within him. He strokes his shaft from hilt to rosy tip, drawing out his own orgasmic release.

Oswald’s head falls forward, loving the sight of his cock disappearing inside Edward. It always pushes him to the edge.

Being so close to Edward, having him in his life and in his bed, is all Oswald has wanted for the longest time. Nothing stands in the way of his true love, at least not anymore. Edward is finally his and no one will ever take him.

“S-s-shit!”, Oswald shouts, cumming in his boyfriend’s ass, filling it full of his thick creamy seed. His body twitches with orgasm, as he promptly wraps his hand around Edward's dick and helps bring him to a blissful nirvana. It doesn't take long before his hand is saturated with his lover’s climax.

“Oh.... Fuck,” Edward whimpers as his cock squirts out a steady stream, flushed body quivering.

They remain motionless, catching their breath, riding out their electric waves. But only after several moments of regaining their strength, speech returns to Oswald's lips. “Your face was beautiful, Ed,” he exhales, drying the mists of sweat from his brow on the back of his left hand and licks his boyfriend’s release from his right. He adores Edward’s taste, adores everything about him. He's never known a more perfect man.

“You always say that,” Edward replies with a chuckle in the back of his throat, feeling absolutely euphoric after what's transpired between them.

“Are you tired of hearing it?”

“No.”

“Then, shut up,” Oswald teases, cocking a brow.

Edward’s face beams with another luminous smile, running his hand through Oswald's short charcoal hair. This is one of the rare times when it isn't styled with gel. He gazes into Oswald’s deep ocean blues, feeling himself getting lost in their beauty the longer he stares at them. He suddenly blinks and shakes his head to pull himself out of this hypnotic haze. He needs to stay with his boyfriend and not drift into the surreal world caught in his eyes. “Come here, Oswald.” He grabs him by the hairs on the back of his neck and draws him into him, roughly kissing his penguin's bruised lips.

“Mmm...” Oswald nips sweetly at the taller man’s bottom lip and he gently breaks their connection. He pushes the bottle of lubrication off of the bed, pulls his semi-flaccid cock out of Edward and his heavy release leaks from his lover’s hole. He snatches up the Riddle-man’s glasses from the nightstand, then lays down beside his boyfriend and places the glasses on Edward’s face, receiving a blushing smile for his kind gesture before lazily draping his arm over his partner’s hairless chest. There's no greater feeling in the world than basking in the afterglow of sex with Edward Nygma.

Edward turns to Oswald and lightly traces his finger over the small bump on the bridge of his boyfriend’s nose, admiring the dimensions of his features. How many times has this nose been broken? If Edward had it his way, no one else would ever violently touch his little bird again. “You do know I love you, Oswald, right?”

“Even though you don't say it much, I know that you do.”

“I’m sorry I don't say it often enough. I know how affectionate you are.”

“No, no, it's okay, Ed.” He grabs him by the cheeks with both hands, apprehensive glare in his eyes. He never wants Edward to think that he doesn't feel loved by him. Oswald has worked hard and has done unspeakable acts to gain Edward’s trust and love. The Riddler feeling like he isn't enough is the last thing Mr. Penguin wants. “I know that you love me. You don't have to say it.”

Edward places his hands on Oswald's wrists, gently pulling them from his face, and adjusts his glasses. They fell from his nose when his cheeks were smooshed. “Sometimes—” glides his thumb across Oswald’s soft bottom lip—“I feel so guilty for being happy.”

“Wh-why?”, Oswald stutters, taken aback by his love’s feelings. “You deserve to be happy. You always have.”

“It's just the fact that Isabella is dead and I haven't found her killer yet. Sometimes I feel like I've moved on too fast.”

“Too fast?” Oswald squints. They've gotten together four months after Isabella died and he claimed to have loved her after only knowing her for twelve hours. How dare he thinks they've gotten together too quickly, they should have been a couple sooner. Oswald had to fight with Isabella for Edward’s affections and there was no way the Penguin wasn’t coming out on top. “She's been dead for six months. You’ve grieved for her longer than you've known her.” Oswald takes in a sharp breath, eyes widen in shock, instantly regretting his words. What the hell happened to his speech filter? That was the kind of comment he tries to keep to himself. “I'm so sorry I-”

“No, Oswald, you're right,” Edward cut off Oswald's apologetic babbling, seeing truth in his words. They've been together for some time and he shouldn't still be holding a torch for his dead girlfriend. He knows Isabella would want him to move on and be happy. “I should be able to give you all of me and I haven’t done that. I'm sorry.”

“You -- you haven't?”

“No. There are things about me that you don't know,” Edward confesses, taking a deep breath before continuing. “And I'm willing to share them with you now. I want you to truly know me and the man I was before we became friends.”

“Really?” He's always wondered about that time in Edward's life, who that awkward forensics technician he met at the Gotham City Police Department really was. He feels honored that Edward is finally willing to open up to him. He knows that he lived through some dark experiences to becoming the confident man he is now. They've both lived through and survived darkness.

“Yes, Oswald.” The Riddle-man kisses his penguin tenderly on the brow.

Oswald's cheeks bloom a rosy tinge and he snuggles into Edward’s warm arms, resting his head on his riddler's chest, ready to drink in every word he speaks. “I'm listening.”

##  **\----------**

> _Storybrooke, the small town where hope is almost non-existent._

“Mmm…. Mmm…. Ugh….” Elijah Rumford Gold cums inside his wife, caressing his talented fingers against her erect clit, bringing her to the climax as well.

“Ah…. Rum….”, Belle Gold mummers her husband's nickname, feeling every inch of her body flooding with warmth. She rests her hands flat on his chest, driving his cock deep inside her with every pounce she takes on top of him, breasts bouncing freely. “Fuck…. Fuck!” She digs her nails into him, scraping them against his flesh, but she doesn't break the skin. Her muscle clenches around his penetrating manhood, as her body begin to stiffen. The ecstasy between her thighs has become too much to bare. Her head falls back as her orgasm uncoils, rippling her body with pleasurable quakes. “Ah!!,” she cries, as the sweet nectar of her sex drenches Elijah's shaft.

He loves to watch and feel her body tremble. Sex is the only pure connection that remains between them. “Come here, Belle,” he groaned thickly in his rich Scottish brogue, cupping the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her long chestnut curls, cock still pulsating inside her.

She slowly leans in and tenderly kisses his lips, savoring the taste of herself upon them from when his face was submerged between her legs. “Mmm….” She rakes her hand through his salt and pepper shoulder length hair, then gently pulls away from his lips. “Thank you,” she breathes upon his flesh and rests her head on his shoulder, body still slightly vibrating.

“You don't have to thank me.” He wraps his arms around her, wishing every night could be like this.

“Yes, I do. You could have said no when I texted you.”

“I wouldn't have said no, sweetheart.” He kisses her brow. “I wanted this just as badly as you.”

She lifts her head and longs into his copper-colored eyes, captivated by the light shimmering in them, still seeing the love he has for her. They've been separated for almost three months and have remained living together in their pink Victorian, but despite their marital problems, they still come together for this physical connection. Why seek it elsewhere when there's still love between them? “I should go,” she says, pulling his manhood out of her slit. His thick cum oozes down the inside of her thigh, as she rolls off of him.

“You can stay," he offers, just as he does almost every time.

“You know I can't.” She stands from the bed and slips back into her nightgown, then covers herself in her black silk robe.

He sits up and watches her dress. This is always the hardest part from when they get together this way. “I miss you, Belle,” he mutters, fighting back the tears burning in his eyes. “I miss us…. How are we going to fix this?”

“I don't know—” she steps up to the bed and ghosts her hand over his cheek— “but I believe we can, somehow.” She wipes away the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. What she feels she needs to tell him next, will surely shatter his damaged heart. “I think you should know since we keep having sex, that I've been on the pill.”

His eyes shoot open, devastation gleaming in them. “What?”, he asks, voice choked with emotion.  He can physically feel his heart constricting in his chest as if she just reached inside him to crush it. “You don't want to have any more children with me?”

“I didn't say that,” she clarifies, removing her hand from his cheek. Sometimes she feels that he likes to put words in her mouth. “But I can't have any more children with you right now. Not like this. Not until we get to a better place.” Belle knows that Elijah is a good father and they've been able to remain co-parents for their five-year-old son, but she can't raise anymore with him if the trust between them is dead.

“Okay, Belle,” he eventually says, after getting over the shock of her words. He completely understands her decision and respects it. There's nothing he could do about it, even if he wanted to. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Only in the morning. I have the single mother’s charity event tomorrow and I'm taking Gideon with me.”

A dim smile flashes on his face. He's always adored the way she enjoys helping people. “You've been working so hard on that.”

She perks up with surprise. “You've noticed?”

“Of course I have,” he quickly replies, almost offended. He's always noticed the things she's done.

“I couldn't tell.”

An awkward silence falls between them. How could they be so close, so hungry for each other, so in love, but still miles apart?

“Well, I'll see you in the morning, Rum.” She turns away from the bed and paces to the door.

“Are you going to his room before you go to bed?”, he asks just as she places her hand on the knob.

She peeks over her left shoulder to answer, “Yes.”

“Will you kiss our son for me?”

She circles around to face him. “Of course I will,” says with sincerity and notices something resting on his nightstand that she didn't see before, one of his crystal gold-rimmed scotch glasses. “Please try to get some rest,” she urges. “Don't drink tonight.”

“You know it's the only thing that numbs the pain.”

“Why numb the pain? Why can't you feel it? It might help.” She knows he needs something, but she wishes it wasn't the drink. He isn't a violent drunk and he would never hurt her or their son, but the way the drink makes him shut down and resemble only a mere shadow of himself frightens her. “I feel the pain for you every day.”

“And has that helped you?”

She stands in silence, unsure how to reply. She doesn't really have a true answer.

“That's what I thought,” he adds, breaking the quiet void between them. “Your own advice hasn’t even helped you. How can you give it to me?”

She steps forward, folding her fidgety hands, holding back the urge to reach out for him. “All I ask is that you try not to drink.”

He turns his head away from her. There's nothing he can do or say to make her stay with him. She might as well be gone already. “Goodnight, Belle.”

It almost always ends this way, both of them in disagreement.

“Elijah....” Her bottom lips wobble and her eyes fill with tears, as she takes another step closer to the bed.

“I said, goodnight, Belle,” he replies coldly.

“Fine,” she huffs, feeling defeated, and storms out of his bedroom. The room they used to share together.

##  **\----------**

_[one week later]_

“Belle!... Belle!” Elijah Gold hobbles into their study with the support of his black and gold-handled cane, seeking his wife to share life-changing news with her. News he's been waiting to receive for twenty-five years. He finds her in the large leather chair catching up on reading one of the books that are due back at the library this week. “Belle!”

“Yes? What?” She drops her book to the floor as she jumps to her feet, such an alarming tone in her husband's voice. Whatever he has to say appears to be something that has rekindled a light in his eyes. “What is it, Rum?” She steps up to him, placing her hand over his which grips tightly at his cane. He's so out of breath, but there's hope on his face. She hasn't seen him this alive in ages. “Did you run all the way up here?”

“You know -- I can't run, Belle,” he exhales between words

“And you know what I meant,” she replies with a half smile.

“Yes—” he gulps and takes a deep breath— “I -- I needed to -- to get to you. I -- needed to -- to tell you…”

“Slow down—” she rests her hand upon his cheek— “and take your time, Rum.”

He takes another rattled breath before removing her other hand from his face and holds onto her tightly. Touching her finally calms him enough to speak clearly. “I found him.”

“Him?” She blinks and gazes perplexed into his eyes, then it suddenly dawns on her of who he speaks. She gasps, lifting her hand from his cane and brings it to her lips in awe. “Him!”, she repeats.

“Yes, sweetheart.” His grip slightly constricts around her hand still in his. He can't believe he's actually speaking these words. “I found his mother, the woman who raised him. They’ve been in Gotham this whole time.”

She takes in another sharp breath, “Gotham's only hours away,” mutters from behind her hand.

“I know,” he replies teary eyed and choked with overjoyed emotion.  

“Oh, baby, I'm so happy for you.” She falls into his arms, hugging him tighter than she could ever remember, feeling his racing heart pounding in his chest. Such a strong and enchanting rhythm.

Elijah Rumford Gold has searched the country for his second born son since the day he learned of his existence twenty-five years ago. Today marks the beginning of the end of his search.

“Your family’s going to be complete,” she adds, slowly pulling out of his embrace and dries the tears from her eyes. “You're going to have all three of your sons.” She wipes the tears of joy from his cheeks as well. She thinks he's most beautiful when he's happy. “Have you told Neal yet? He's going to be thrilled that you found his little brother.”

“I haven’t told anyone yet, just you.” Though they've been separated and their marriage rocky, Elijah still thinks of Belle as his best friend and he needed to tell her the amazing news first. “But I don't want to jump to conclusions,” he goes on to say. “He might not want me in his life. He’s a thirty-one-year-old man now, Belle. He might not need or want a father.”

She takes a step back and crosses her arms in annoyance, “Don't think like that, Elijah.” She hates seeing him full of self-doubt. He's wanted this day for longer than their marriage existed. Why can’t he be more positive? “I'm sorry, but what you're saying is shit.”

“I just don't want to get my hopes up too high. He's lived a life without me in it. He probably doesn't even know he's adopted.”

“Well, you'll just have to see when you meet him. Don't have doubts just yet.”

He peers down at their hands laced together, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. Oh, how he wishes they held hands more often. “Okay—” looks back up at her, nodding his head— “okay, I'll try not too.”

“Thank you, that's all I ask.” She hugs him dearly once again, knowing that he wants and needs her loving arms around him. She wants to be his support no matter how the outcome of the situation turns out. “So, what's his name?”

“I still don't know.” He politely breaks their connection. “I've only received the information about his adoptive mother, Gertrud Kapelput.” He struggles with the last name of the women because of his accent, but he thinks he's pronounced it correctly. “I'm hoping she'll be willing to introduce us.”

“I know she will.”

He rests his hand gently under Belle’s chin, longing into her cerulean eyes, feeling a day when they'll all be happy drawing nearer. “This is going to change our life, and I don't just mean for the family, I mean for you and I as well.” He delicately ghosts his thumb across her soft-pink painted lip. “I've had a hollowness brewing in me since the day I found out about him. They took him away from me and all just for money.” Elijah remembers that day like it happened yesterday, standing above his sick father’s bed, revenge scolding in his heart.

“I know that, Elijah.” She lowers his hand from her chin and softly brushes away the feathery graying hairs that have fallen on his face. “It was one of the worst days of your life and for so many reasons. You lost your own father the day you found out about your second son.”

He stares off tragically for a moment, thinking of the act he committed that day. “That man was not a father to me,” Elijah suddenly snaps, saliva misting from his lips.

Belle finches at his boisterous rage, but she isn't frightened, only startled. She knows that his anger isn't towards her. “I know—” she places her hand over her heart, steadying her jitters— “I know of the things he's done to you.”

“I'm sorry, Belle,” he says softly. The images of that day always play in his mind like a crystal clear movie and the powerful emotions always flood through his body. “I didn't mean to lash out.”

“It's alright, I know what that man did. Even I hate him and I've never met him.”

He closes some of the gap between them, returning the conversation back to what he thinks is more important. “I don't want to think about him or that day right now because I’ve found my son,” Elijah says proudly, bottom lip lightly quivering. “I know where he is and just by knowing that makes me feel whole again. I can stop searching for that part of me that's been missing.” He keeps back the tears threatening to fall from his reddened eyes. “I can put my feet back on the ground and start living again, with you. I can focus on us, our life together, our marriage.”

“I believe you will, Elijah,” she says wholeheartedly. She knows the words he speaks are from the deepest depths of him, the truest part of him.

“You do?”

“Yes, with all my heart. I believe you will succeed and I believe you will try your very best.”   

“I promise you, sweetheart, things can only get better from here.” He kisses the tip of his fingers and presses them against her lips, receiving a faint giggle from the gesture.

“So—” she sniffs, drying tears from her eyes yet again— “when are you going to meet with his mother?” She never thought she'd cry this much today or that any encounter she had with Elijah would be this emotionally powerful.

“Tomorrow,” he swiftly answers, without a second thought. “I have to go to Gotham tomorrow.”

##  **\----------**

_[the next day]_

“So, where is it?” Oswald Cobblepot asks, pulling back the hammer on the gold nine-millimeter pistol he has pointing at the manager of the bank on forty-sixth street. “I really don't have all day.” He laughs momentarily and removes the gun from the man's head, waves it around nonchalantly for a short instant and quickly returns

it to the poor sap’s skull. “There's a city board meeting at one o'clock! I can’t be late!”, the mayor shouts.

*knock, knock, knock*

“You!” Oswald points the gun at Victor Zsasz as if the weapon was an extension of his hand. “Go see who the hell is that the door.”

Victor salutes his boss and quickly opens the door to Mr. Penguin's boyfriend, who is also the mayor’s Chief of Staff, standing behind it.

Edward Nygma stands frazzled with an alarming glare in his eye, but also relieved that nothing in this room has gone any further. “I’m so sorry, Oswald.” He shuffles inside, clutching files against his chest. “He's not due today.”

“What?” Oswald turns to Edward and cocks his head to the right, gun still pointed at the frightened man.  

Edward swallows hard. He never wants to disappoint Oswald. “He doesn't owe money today.” Points at the man. “He still has another week.”

“Ed—” the fierce expression on Oswald’s face softens as he lowers his hand holding the gun— “how did this happen?” His lover never makes mishaps like this.

“There was a small glitch in my system, but I fixed it,” Edward explains, pushing his glasses up on his face. “In fact, the bakery at sixty-fourth street owes money today.”

“So, it was a mistake?”

“Yes, my love, I'm sorry.”

Oswald’s cheeks glow for an instant, as he absorbs the fact that Edward carelessly called him _my love_ in front everyone. He then blinks, bringing himself out of that merger moment of delight and refocuses back on the task at hand. “But, he owes next week?”, Oswald asks.

“Yes—” Edward nods— “I'm positive.”

Oswald quickly turns back to the man and pistol whips him with the back of his hand and then swings back with another, connecting to the man’s face for the second time. “Take him back,” he orders his goons. “And make sure he’s on track to pay up in six days.”

“You got it, boss,” Victor says, as he and Gabriel drag the unconscious man’s body out of the room.

Oswald rests his gun on the long wood table in the middle of the room and limps to Edward stands on his toes and wraps his arms around him. “I know you think I'm upset,” he says hushed, as Edward drops the files and hugs Oswald in return.

“I don't want to fail you.”

“You haven't and you never will,” he assures him and kisses Edward sweetly on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Oswald.” He slowly pulls out of his boyfriend’s loving connection. Oswald always tells him that he could never do anything wrong, but he'll continue to do his best not to disappoint him. Today was a small mistake that he'll make sure that never happens again. “You have just enough time to visit your mother before your meeting today.”

“Now that that putz is gone I do have the time, don't I?” Oswald takes both of Edward's hands in his.

“Yes,” Edward replies with a smile. “I had lilies delivered for you to take to her.”

“You've thought of everything, Ed.” He gives his riddle-man and quick peck on the lips. “What would I do without you?”

Edward’s cheeks bloom and somewhat lowers his head. “I'm sure you’d be fine.”

“I beg to differ.” The Penguin brings both of Edward’s hands to his lips and kisses them.

Edward replies with his own kiss upon Oswald’s brow and both men chuckle, full of ecstasy from the love they feel for each other. “One more thing before you go,” Edward announces, once finally able to speak full words again.

“What is it, Ed?”

Edward takes his hands out of Oswald's grip and gives his lover a riddle to solve. “I have neither flesh, bone nor nail. Yet has four fingers and a thumb.” Edward grins arching a brow. “What am I, Oswald?” Boops the Penguin's pointed nose.

Oswald beams at his lover, trying to think of the answer, but he's never really been good at these things. He's more captivated by how handsome Edward looks today to even comprehend an honest reply. “I don't know, Ed. I give up.”

Edward reaches into the pocket of his dark green suit jacket and pulls out two purple leather items. “I'm a glove,” reveals the answer along with Oswald's gloves from his pocket. “It’s a bit cold out and you're going to need these.” He takes Oswald's left hand and assists him with putting on the glove.

Oswald stands frozen in amazement. How could this man get any more perfect? “God, I love you.”

##  **\----------**

A cold breeze carrying decaying leaves blows over the grounds of the Gotham City Memorial Park, where the city's mayor has come to pay his respects to his dearly departed mother.

“You would be so proud of me, mother,” Oswald whimpers, laying white lilies upon her headstone. “I found what you always wanted for me, love. You would adore Edward. I wish you could have met him.” He dares not to tell his mother how he won his boyfriend’s heart. Knowing the truth of what he’s done would break her heart in death just as it would in life. “I miss you so much and I wish I could have saved you.”

At the very least he was able to avenge her murder by beating Theo Gallivant with a bat and shoving an umbrella down his corpses worthless throat.

“I'll be back later this week to bring you more flowers,” Oswald adds and stands before the headstone in silence with his head hanging low, the fur around the collar of his dark purple coat flows freely in the cold wind, as he relives countless memories of the life he’s lived with his beloved mother.

After a moment, Oswald opens his eyes just as a man wearing a long black coat with a black and gold-handled cane in his right-hand approaches the Penguin's direction. Oswald decides to take his leave to give the other man privacy with whomever's grave he has come to visit.

As the men pass each other in the middle of the park, curiosity abruptly hits Oswald and he stops to take a peek at where the man with the cane will place his single white rose, and oddly enough, he rests it upon his mother’s headstone.

Oswald looks on with alarm.

He's never seen this man before. Why is he bring his dead mother roses? The Penguin hobbles back to her grave and stands next to the man, trying not to look too suspicious of him. They stand in silence for a moment before Oswald finally breaks the ice. “Did you know her,” he asks with a sniff, the cold air keeps nipping at his reddened nose.

“No, but I wish I had. The information I received about her was several months old,” the man answers. “She did something astonishingly noble for me and for that I'm an eternally grateful to her.”

The man's comment only draws more questions for Oswald Cobblepot. “How could she have done such a good thing for you if you didn't know her?”

“She raised my son,” the man says in a low sorrowful tone as he turns away from Oswald and heads back the direction from which he came.

Oswald watches the man slowly limp away, realizing the possibility of whom he could be. His mother never lied to him about who he was and where he came from. She always reminded Oswald that just because he didn’t come from her body, doesn't mean that she would ever love him any less. “I'm her only son,” he makes known. He isn't quite sure why he blurted out this information or if it will cause him nothing but regret.

Elijah Gold’s hand grips tightly at his cane as Oswald's words send shivers down his spine. He instantly circles back, eyes broad with realization. How could he not have noticed it before? He was standing right next to him. “How old are you?”, Elijah asks. He can already feel that this is the truth, but he still needs answers.

“I'm thirty-one,” Oswald replies.

Elijah’s heart jumps up in his throat. Never did he imagine to run into his child after learning of Gertrud’s untimely death from the neighbors in her apartment building.

Both men limp towards each other, lingering eyes scanning over one another's short stature, feeling as though this moment is a tear in the fabric of both of their realities.

“You look more like her,” Elijah says, having no doubt that the man before him is the child he lost three decades ago.

“Look more like who?”, Oswald asks, slowly pacing around his alleged father. He’s known of his adoption his entire life but never sought out to seek any blood relatives because his mother was all the family he needed. Besides, he’s always thought if these people were so eager to give him up, why would they ever accept him back with open arms.

“Your birth mother, Cora Mills,” he answers, hasn’t spoken that name aloud in years.

“My mother never kept it from me that I was adopted.”

“That was good of her.”

“I never thought to look for any of you,” Oswald states boldly, making clear of the choice he’s made in his life. “My mother was enough for me.”

“That was your right, my son.” It pains his heart a little to know that Oswald would have lived his life without ever knowing who he was, but Elijah can understand why he would. Oswald thought he had been abandoned and that no one wanted him, when in fact, that was the opposite when it came to Elijah Gold. “But you didn’t have to look for me. It wasn't your job. I needed to search for you and I never stopped.”

There's something about living your life as a criminal in the Gotham underworld. You learn how to tell when someone is telling the truth and when they lie. Oswald sees no lies on Elijah’s face. “Well—” he rolls his eyes dismissively, licking his cold drying lips in the chilly air— “since you're here, I want to know more.” He hides the fact that he's greatly interested. “Where is my birth mother?”

“I thank every day that I breathe that she's dead," Elijah snarls through his crooked teeth.

“Why are you grateful for that?”, The Penguin inquirers. That wasn't the sort of reply he expected to hear. His father seems to appear to have a bit of a dark side. “What did she do?”

“She's one of the reasons why we haven't been in each other's lives.” He takes a closer step towards Oswald, but not too close. He can tell that his son is still sizing up the situation. Being raised in a city like Gotham, you have to be highly aware of your surrounding. “The other reason is my father,” Elijah goes on to say.

Oswald’s curiosity of where he came from grows even greater the more he speaks with Mr. Gold. “I need you to tell me everything.”

“It's a long story,” he hastily replies, almost didn't think they’d get to this point. Oswald looked as though he was about bolt a few times during their conversation. “Do you have time to hear it?”

“I can make the time.”

“Can we go somewhere else to talk?”

“I have a place.”

“Good,” Elijah says and suddenly enveloped himself around Oswald, no longer having the strength to keep himself from hugging him. “My son.” he sighs blissfully.

Oswald’s body tenses. He was grabbed on to so quickly and held so tightly that there was no real time to react, but after a moment of being in his arms, his body relaxes. There’s something about this man affections that seems right and he can't explain it. Such a warm and welcoming feeling. He kindly pulls out of Elijah's embrace and takes a step back, extending his purple-leather clad hand instead. “I'm Oswald Cobblepot,” he formally introduces himself.

“Cobblepot,” Elijah repeats the last name with surprise, recognizing that his son is a man of note. He promptly takes Oswald’s hands in his own for a shake. “You're the mayor of this city,” he says with a proud smirk.

“Indeed.” Oswald flashes a fiendish grin of his own.

Elijah tilts his head a little to the right, eyebrows high. “I actually know a bit about you.”

“And does knowing a bit about me changed your mind about having me as your son?” Oswald snarks.

“Not in the slightest. I’m intrigued and impressed.” He releases his firm grip on Oswald's hand. “I'm Elijah Rumford Gold,” he announces, desperately holding back the urge to engulf his arms around Oswald again. “And I'm honored to finally meet my son.”

 


End file.
